


Mad Yuri

by fajrdrako



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fajrdrako/pseuds/fajrdrako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before Yuri's execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad Yuri

_Vorbarr Sultana: 2741. The Imperial Palace, Security Wing._

The dungeons were dark, but not damp. Aral had hoped for rats and dripping walls, but instead the Sergeant at Arms led him to a dim, drab cell in which the Emperor ofBarrayar sat on a plain wooden chair. Aral stood outside the barred door, watching him. One of the legs on the chair was shorter than the others, and the Emperor rocked on it, a little, the sound echoing lightly. Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap.

"Emperor Yuri Vorbarra," announced the Sergeant, as if he were a herald welcoming guests to the Midsummer Ball. He held up his lantern.

The Emperor, who had been staring at his feet, raised his eyes but not his chin. 

"Fuck it all," he said. "Not the Vorkosigan brat." 

"Better speak respectfully to him," said the Sergeant. "He'll be killin' you tomorrow."

"So." Vorbarri eyed the boy with something between contempt and curiosity. "They made you my executioner, then."

"First strike," said Aral. "I wanted to see you, first. It's been a long, hard battle till this moment."

"All the years of my life." 

"Why did you kill my mother? She never did you any harm."

The Emperor was wearing the soldier's uniform they had taken him in. The collar was open, a button half torn off. The jacket was stained - impossible to tell now if it were blood or mud. His eyes were both dull and piercing. "Because I could!"

Aral swallowed. He was looking at history. At the past. Something which much never happen again. He swore to himself that never, never again would he allow a monster to rule his planet: an emperor unhinged by power and anger and indifference to the lives of others. It disturbed him that he saw echoes of his mother in this monster's face: the delicate nose, the eyebrows, the curve of the neck. TheVorbarras were beautiful when young; Yuri's life had just begun to make a travesty of his looks. The scar across his face wasn't what made him unattractive. It was the shift of his eyes, the sneer to his mouth, the feral smile.

Earlier, Aral had wanted to spit on him. Now, he wanted to run. Yuri was helpless now: it wasn't Yuri that he feared. It was the strength of his personality, the relentless insanity within him, twinned to the expression of power. 

This man was blood of his mother's blood. Blood of his own. He said, "Do you have any conscience at all?"

"I eat boys like you for breakfast," said Yuri. (Thump. Tap. Thump. Tap.) "The puny heir to the Vorkosigans, still a mama's boy two years after her death. Think you're a man now, do you? Because you're on the winning side? I would have killed your father, and enslaved you. And your sister."

"After tomorrow," said Aral steadily, "There will be no more slaves on Barrayar."

The Emperor laughed. "Tell yourself that, Vorkosigan, in the cold dark nights. There are only two kinds of Vor: the victors and the slaves. The mad and the beautiful. Which will you be?"

"I will make my own terms with life," said Aral hotly, and his Yuri laughed; too loud, too long. Then he dropped his head, coughing.

"Good-bye, cousin," said Aral.

Yuri Vorbarra said, "Till tomorrow, then. Executioner."

\- - -


End file.
